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“To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering.”–Aldo Leopold

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Polar Vortex! In the Illinois prairie region, all the chatter is about the week’s forecast: wind chill temperatures of 50-plus degrees below zero. Brrr! It’s a good time to dream a little bit about the summer to come.

One of my favorite tasks as a prairie steward is monitoring dragonflies. People often ask me in the winter, Where are the dragonflies now? How do they survive the brutal cold?

Some, I tell them, like the green darners and black saddlebags, have migrated south to reproduce. Later generations journey back north again, much like the well-publicized monarch butterfly. But most of our dragonflies are still here—in the nymph stage—under the surfaces of streams, ponds, and pools of prairie wetlands, waiting for spring and warmer temperatures. Under the prairie ice.

Dragonflies and their population changes tell us a lot about our water quality. Dragonfly responses to climate also help us understand what we see happening in the see-sawing temperatures and weather changes in the world around us. Good reasons to care! With this in mind, citizen scientists monitor dragonflies of all species, tracking their numbers each year.

We need our dragonflies. I’ve spent a lot of time kayaking and looking for dragonflies and damselflies on Silver Lake at Blackwell Forest Preserve in Warrenville, Illinois, just for fun. But now, in this January cold, the lake is full of ice fisherman.

Just across the preserve, not far from the ice fishing houses, is my destination—the Urban Stream Research Center. Here, one of our most vulnerable insect species, the Hine’s emerald dragonfly, is being reared.

Some people dream of meeting sports heroes. Others, their favorite rock star. Me, I dream of seeing the Hine’s emerald dragonfly (Somatochlorahineana) winging its way through a prairie preserve. It’s our only federally-endangered dragonfly. Finicky? Yes! It has a lot of special requirements, including shallow flowing water and time spent in burrows made by the devil crayfish.

… and open it to the Hine’s emerald dragonfly spread. Then, I think what it would be like to see the real thing.

Today, I’ll get part of my wish.

Heading up the project in its third year in the Chicago Region is DuPage County Forest Ecologist Andrés Ortega. His enthusiasm for dragonflies and passion for the project are evident from the first moment of my arrival at the center.

Andrés reaches into a refrigerator, and pulls out a dozen vials of tiny Hine’s emerald dragonfly nymphs.

The dragonfly nymphs are in “diapause,” just as nymphs are outdoors. These nymphs enjoy cool refrigerator temps of about 40 degrees Fahrenheit; their normal overwintering temperature, Ortega tells me.

The eggs were gathered from gravid female dragonflies at known breeding sites in DuPage and Cook Counties, Andrés tells me. Once netted, the tip of the female dragonfly’s abdomen is dipped into water—a process that simulates ovipositing—causing her to release her eggs. After the eggs are harvested, they are taken to a research laboratory in South Dakota. Here, they hatch and are cared for through their first months or even years of nymph life.

Then, they are driven to Illinois and hand-delivered to Ortega at the Urban Stream Research Center.

These are ferocious little critters. Andrés tells me they keep similar-sized nymphs with other similar-sized nymphs, as larger ones will enjoy the smaller ones for dinner if thrown together. Cannibalism! It’s a bug-eat-bug world out there. Staff carefully control the water quality (which should not be too clean) and water temperature.

In the spring, the nymphs will be released into the research center’s indoor raceways. These are long pools that mimic stream-like conditions. The temperature of the water in the raceways is carefully calibrated to reflect the rising temperatures outdoors.

Raceways are custom made by employees expressly for the dragonfly rearing. Sand, rocks, frayed rope pieces, and plastic aquarium plants offer hiding places for the nymphs. In about mid-May, the nymphs will begin feeding from a menu that includes small crustaceans and midge larvae. The screens and netting will keep midges from escaping and interfering with other research work at the center, such as mussel propagation.

It will take the dragonfly nymphs about four to five years to reach maturity, from the egg stage to the beautiful creatures of the air I see in my field guide. When ready to emerge, they will be released into suitable nature preserves in the state.

Ortega tells me that less than one percent of the Hine’s emerald dragonfly nymphs survive in the wild. Pretty slim odds, aren’t they? I’m grateful to people like Andrés Ortega. He is one of our unsung heroes, doing the hard work of keeping part of the natural world from vanishing forever.

The next time you see a frozen prairie stream or pond this winter, think of the many different species of dragonflies waiting to emerge, just underneath the surface. Who knows? This might be the year we see more of the Hine’s emerald dragonflies, cruising through prairie wetlands. I’m planning to show up and look.

How about you?

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The Aldo Leopold quote that opens this essay is from Round River. Leopold is often referred to as the father of wildlife ecology and the United States’ wilderness system. Please visit The Aldo Leopold Foundation’s website to learn more about Leopold and his work, which is carried on today.

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Grateful thanks to Andrés Ortega for his tour of the Urban Stream Research Center; his patient answers to all my questions; his reading and suggested edits for this blogpost (all remaining errors are my own); and his terrific work with dragonflies. Contact him at aortega@dupageforest.org.

Many thanks to super nice guy Kurt Mead, author of Dragonflies of the North Woods, Third Edition (2017), and Sparky Stensaas, co-owner of Kollath+Stensaas Publishing, who approved using the cover and pages with the Hine’s emerald dragonfly for this post (and also thanks to photographer Troy Hibbitts whose Hine’s emerald images (thehibbets.net) appear on those pages. If you are interested in dragonflies, you should own this beautiful guide–it is indispensable for Midwestern dragonfly chasers, even if you live a little further south of the North Woods (I live in Illinois). Order from your favorite local bookseller, or online here.

“Owning our story can be hard, but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it.” –Brene Brown

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October is a good month for reflection.

As I walk the two prairies where I monitor dragonflies, it’s quiet. A few common green darners still buzz drowsily about, but they are the exception. Most of the dragonflies–eastern amberwings, prince baskettails, blue dashers– have migrated south or laid eggs and finished out their brief lives in the tallgrass. The sky and creek banks seem emptier without them.

At home, I collate my monitoring reports, doublecheck photos against ID’s, rejoice over new species added, and wonder why some of the dragonfly species I expected didn’t show up this season. Or was it me that didn’t show up to see them at the right time? Tough to know.

I make plans for next year.

Soak up the satisfaction of another year almost wrapped up, with all the joys and disappointments that it contained.

It’s not just me that’s evaluating the year. At Nachusa Grasslands, bison are assessed at an annual round-up this month. The rest of the 364 days, they are free to roam in the tallgrass.

A round-up is a chance to check-in on their well-being; to count shaggy heads, and to vaccinate bison against potential diseases.

The bison don’t care for the process much, but monitoring their health and taking a little preventative action ensures they have a more stress-free future. Sure, it takes time and energy to do these assessments –but in the long run, it pays off.

In October, I find the prairie is a good place for personal reflection; a little self-assessment. Alone in the tallgrass, without the distractions of my cell phone, laptop, or work to be completed, my mind quiets. I think about how the year has unfolded so far. Look with more perspective at the rest of 2016 to come, with its busy rounds of holidays, family, and year-end tasks.

The hot and sweaty hours I’ve spent on the prairie this season managing weeds, cutting brush, and putting in new prairie plants comes to fruition in the wash of color and foaming of seedheads across the tallgrass in October. The hours I’ve walked, and looked, and written down species and numbers of dragonflies, are finished. I begin wrapping up some projects, and plan what is next.

What would I choose to do differently, if I could? What do I find difficult to change? What brought me joy? Did I risk enough? Was I present when I needed to be? Did I show up?

The seeds I’ve collected and the sheets of dragonfly data are a reminder of what I’ve accomplished…and didn’t accomplish. How do I want to move forward into the next season?

It’s easy to let life happen to us, instead of being intentional about life. Each year brings new joys, disappointments, and opportunities. There is so much more ahead.

I want to be thoughtful about how I embrace each coming day. Intentional. But open to whatever unfolds. Most of all, I want to be present. To show up.

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The opening quote is by Brene Brown (1965-) a research professor and the author of “The Gifts of Imperfection.” The full quote includes this line: “Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky, but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy–the experiences that make us most vulnerable.” Well said.

Cindy Crosby

Cindy Crosby is the author, compiler, or contributor to more than 20 books. Her most recent is "The Tallgrass Prairie: An Introduction," (2017 Northwestern University Press). Look for her new book, "Tallgrass Conversations: In Search of the Prairie Spirit" in spring of 2019 (with Thomas Dean, Ice Cube Press). Her writing is also included in "The Tallgrass Prairie Reader" (2014, University of Iowa Press). She teaches prairie ecology, prairie literature, and prairie ethnobotany in the Chicago area, and is a prairie steward who has volunteered countless hours in prairie restoration. See Cindy's upcoming speaking and teaching events at www.CindyCrosby.com.

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